


Onomatopoeia

by Livali



Category: Mobile Legends: Bang Bang (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Contains a bit of lore reimagining, Gen, Multi, One-Shot Collection, Slight Canon Divergence, hi im iro and i like angsty shit, mostly angst, occasionally self-indulgent, romance themes are mostly platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-19 11:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livali/pseuds/Livali
Summary: a bunch of one-shots. characters and topic may vary each chapter.





	1. a flower for bravery

**Author's Note:**

> one, lesley/harley: a memorial grave, and a plea for return. the five become six. the rifle walks far.

Worn leather boots dig aimlessly into the earth, soiling the already tattered and aged shine it supposedly held. There was no point in keeping it polished anymore, no time and no motive. His footsteps crackled, yet the young mage doesn’t look away from where he is gawking- sorrowing, probably a more fitting term- at a reasonably-sized block of stone. On top of it was the rusty parts of a broken rifle once feared, wilted flowers that were probably weeks old on the base. The block of stone was covered in moss, tangled in vines and smelled like rain. Behind the grave was the ruins of a mansion. The mansion of the Vances- to be specific.

It wasn’t a grave nor a tombstone- according to him. A memorial. Harley reminded himself in silence. There used to be a body- but some bastardly soul, perhaps an enemy of the Vances, had dug it out to throw it away. Now there wasn’t. No trace of his father’s remains in this plane was left.

Saber’s shadow looms over his shoulder and he crouches, placing down to place his offering, a lily he salvaged along the way, on the ground in front of the stone. A white stargazer lily, symbolizing sympathy. The genius stood up straight, still not acknowledging the swordmaster beside him. He wished it was his sister standing there, not him.

The tall man coughs, and Harley turns by a little. He tells him of Bruno and Alpha’s progress at traveling to Nost Gal. Lolita’s recent accomplishment, in which she had apprehended a pack of bandits- all of these do not surprise Harley, and Saber slowly trails off as he senses the young man’s disinterest, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.

There was a pause.

He asks if there has been anything special near the lands of Ylbarad. He heard rumors that his sister, Lesley, was sighted there. What he really meant was, ‘have you found her yet?’. The robot responds negative, as he has every day for the last few months. Harley slumps ever so slightly.

He asks if there’s anything else, and Saber hesitates. A potential ally, he said. He sounded rather nervous. That was rare, Harley punctually observes. He impatiently asks what the point is, if they are only a potential against the most powerful wizards on Eruditio at that time?

Saber told him how extremely unpredictable, and yet enigmatic this potential was. A wild card perhaps. That’s what they needed, Harley wanted to say. The man spoke roundabout of the topic at hand, but the mage just wanted him to cut to the chase. Saber sighed.

He has no idea who this potential is, he says. And Harley huffed. What was the point of having an ally if they never knew who they were in the first place? Saber explained that this ‘ally’, has been following them around for weeks. Silently erasing the potential dangers on the path they wished to take. It seemed that this enigma had taken out highly-skilled wizards for them. One thing that interested Harley slightly was that all of them had a hole in the head. He duly notes the fact.

Saber said that this mystery person had left a note to them one evening. The content written said they owed Harley’s group a favor. Their name is left unwritten.

The voices of the people of Eruditio, along with the freedom of its magic power was shattered by the Dark Wizards, and frankly Harley would much rather be with the potential ally than against them, so he does not hesitate in deciding to write a message back to this person later. Hoping that they would receive it if he had left it over the memorial.

Soon enough the forces in favor of Scholar City’s freedom are slightly stronger against those of the wizards, but it goes unspoken in the halls of Eruditio that it’s still not enough and could not possibly be enough.

And Harley, along with his group of friends knows this as much as everyone else, as he hopes that his unspoken pleas might reach the one person he cared about, Lesley, his sister, wherever she is right now.


	2. at the hands of uncreation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two, freya: the goddess of war sleeps. and the world is in chaos once more.

Another angel had fallen.

The continental plates fractured and stirred. Mountain ranges and barren lands spreading out across the tides. The lands are reshaping- altering what the Wings of Holiness’ flickering light had failed to protect. Abominations unheard of, children of the Queen of the Apocalypse, walked their way out of the underworld’s faults; their hands carving ravines into empty and uncharted soil. The earthquakes intensified as dragons and titans rose; their infernal wings obscuring the sun, the world’s only light. Freya, the Goddess of War, in all her fire and glory, watched all of this unfold with frustrated eyes.

When the ancient blade had awoken from its slumber, the seal keeping it supposedly locked away broken by Argus, the wave of pure energy that shifted throughout the earth- mana, it was called- in its most unstable and cardinal form was enough to etch fear into the hearts of the most powerful. The champions joked like frightened children in their respective planes.

The prayers of the angel, Rafaela were thrown heavenwards in the fleeting hope there might be a sign, a clue, anything from her superiors. But for the first time in centuries, she finally saw how the mortals were completely and utterly __alone__. In the face of an ancient evil, in its most omnipotent form, the gods had abandoned them.

The infernal blade was not the only one who had awakened in this new apocalypse. In turn the reign of calamity had raised its hand to wage war; creatures that once embodied humanity’s defense, as vehement as the old gods have turned against the people it should have bastioned. Havoc fell upon The Land of Dawn’s tattered remains, the cries and roars of the last protectors echoing and spreading fear in their wake- proving that the Queen of the Apocalypse's time had finally come, and the end was drawing near. At least, that's what she and her disciples thought.

The heavens heard these calls differently. As Freya, with all her remaining might, called forth a stronghold of angels under her command, for one last time. They revived the scorched oceans, eradicated disease, and resurrected guardians. Imprisoned for millennia by the valkyrie herself deep within the heavenly body of the Earth and skies, in the hearts of volcanoes and deepest parts of the sea, their actions slimly reversed the Queen’s doings.

Elsewhere, heroes of legend huddled together among ruined corinthian pillars and tiles made out of quartz. A church which served the heavens once, now nothing but a pile of stone and ash. The heroes argued in loud tones, a rising fear demanded their action. The queen, Alice was terrible enough of a foe, but with the threat of the ancients awakening and the fallen wielding it, perhaps the end of times truly were at hand- and impossible to prevent. Sigils were etched on the walls, wards and runes were displayed across the sky, and enchantments were cast. The finest mages among this group of heroes did all they could, but still were not sure if it was enough.

They could only hope. The disturbances beneath stopped, and with sighs of relief, their focus was shifted to the monsters and enemies crowding the land.

But the mages, in all their knowledge, missed something- the one threat who stayed ignored, who did not flinch in the presence of the queen. Thought to be weaker than the current threats at hand, more easily contained- this man who had dominated planes was easily overlooked.

Far away, an elf stood alone on an island shard. Sighted was the ruins of a once great temple, slowly being reclaimed by the nature it had been brought from. The skeletal remains of warriors of the elf’s same kind, human and orcs lay, arms of war were spread on the temple floor, green sprouts appeared in the cracks of stone, and the shadow of an archer stood silently along the collapsed walls, projected by the setting sun. Fallen pillars with aged engravings of great battles and fearsome beasts formed juggy-rigged homes for the animals unaware of its meanings, the enchantments once painstakingly sculptured into the marble and rock.

White blocks and benches were overturned and broken, their remains haphazardly thrown about the foundations. The only creations that seemed untouched by the passage of time was a fountain of energy. The pool of mana healed all it touched, but it could not heal the land it inhabited. Like everything else; the fountain of stone was coated in moss and with a family of pigeons nesting on its nexus. Time had dulled the once reverent shrine, but it was still oddly peaceful. A small part of it still showing the moon elves’ honor. Everything was quiet, until the ground quivered ever so slightly. It sent the birds and bats flying, the ashes and debris were agitated, and the archer opened her eyes as she touched the spring.

Seemingly as soon as the shaking began, it had ceased. Everything stilled once more.

And then, the valkyrie’s eyes had cracked open.


	3. goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> three, alucard/miya: the demon hunter has only said goodbye once.

The moment she spared his life, he stopped using it. He knows that much. As far as habits go, it is nothing wrong. It’s not disruptive or really noticeable. It’s not even really a habit, per se. More of a verbal twitch, actually.

The catch is- Alucard never says goodbye.

It isn’t lifelong. He remembers. He’s said goodbye a lot as a child. He’s said his goodbyes when his family died. When the demon hunters took him in. When he trained. And then, at some point when he made an oath with the demon hunters – or maybe even as far back as when he was still a teenager, trained by his superiors – the way he thought of ‘goodbye’ changed.

Maybe it was the stress of the battles he fought back then, even when he wasn’t traveling and hunting down demons. Maybe it was the fact that ‘goodbye’ felt too final. Too ending.

He can feel the tic, the memories when he said the word.

He hated that.

Just because there weren’t battles, there weren’t deaths. Death wasn’t only physical, he says once. Perhaps ‘goodbye’ was just too finishing a thing to say when he knew how easily it could be the last thing he will ever say to someone.

There has always been an excessive rephrase of the word ‘goodbye’ in his vocabulary. Every other phrase for the word that existed has probably passed his lips at some point.

See you later. So long. Adieu.

He uses ‘farewell’ the most. It’s also what he hates the most, too. He keeps using it and he absolutely dislikes that. It sounds rather casual and common, but at the same time it feels somewhat finishing.

He thought once, it may not be used as an end, but also a delay. It’s a way to say goodbye while also, in a way, assuring that one is not parting paths. For a bit, he’ll be apart with that person, but they know they will cross paths eventually.

He met an elf months ago. Cornered by a pack of demons he thought he could overpower, but he made a mistake. He let the woman save his life.

But that was the biggest mistake he ever made, he reckoned at that time. Currently though? He was grateful, he thinks.

He used to swore that he will accept no aid from no one. Swear no allegiance. Swear no commitment- and during the moment she had shot her last arrow and killed the last demon, he begged for the elf to kill him.

It wasn’t that he would throw his life away that casually, nor was he that petty. He pretty much dedicated his entire life to solving problems alone, battling through conflicts alone. He’s pretty much lived through anything alone. By now, he should have died. He miscalculated, and he should’ve suffered the consequences of that.

“Shoot me,” he said. His tone of voice was demanding and harsh.

And yet, she didn’t.

“Life is only given once.” She retorted, “but not chances. There are many out there.”

Upon saying the statement, she left. No blood was spilled any further, no human had died. The elf had left him injured, but with a few healing potions at arm’s reach.

“Farewell, demon hunter.”

That day he broke an oath. He swore to himself that day, that they will meet again.

And they do, but this time a common enemy they never knew of lingers.

Months later, he awakens to the sun’s light and knows that he isn’t going to see the sun set.

It’s an instinct of his. He’s felt this numerous times before, but this gut feeling has never felt so potent. It was an instinct that has become refined and honed over years and years of being needed. Even if it has been wrong multiple times before, he isn’t going to start doubting it now.

There was no way out of this. He supposed. No matter how hard he will attempt, the only end that will ever be was death.

For better or for worse, he knows that no matter if he wins this battle or not, he isn’t going to live to see the result. He knew the end was inevitable- the time of the world’s destruction was at hand. The queen began to rain her calamity upon the grounds and domains she could reach, and he knew she couldn’t be stopped.

Even if his companions and allies were the most powerful the world had to offer, he knew there was no other way to make out of this conflict alive. And he’s guilty with that.

He knew. And he wondered if his allies felt the same.

He should be finding it odd that he’s at peace with that. It’s not that he won’t fight to live, that he’ll just give up. If he dies today, he’ll go to his fate kicking and screaming the entire way. He just knew that he won’t be coming back from this battle.

Truth to be told, he’s tired of fighting. He’s tired of waving his blade through demon flesh, tired of revenge, tired of exterminating. He’s tired of bloodshed. The stench of death, the feeling of woe and loss that hangs in the air. Although, he isn’t tired of protecting. He will never grow tired of protecting.

When they prepare, everything is a blur. A rush to sharpen blades, to prepare talismans and spells, a rush to prepare for death. Everyone is running every which way and on the way to grab his blade, he sees Miya.

He remembers the times from months ago. An oath he had broken for another. They met, again, but this time she was with a party of three. Two to be exact- one of them was an animal. A smilodon, he remembered. He remembers the times from days ago-

She knew she wasn’t going to come out unscathed- no, she knew she wasn’t going to survive. And yet, when the fellow elf had cried for aid- and she came. Monsters unheard of she battled against, they all died. She died too.

Supposedly.

She shouldn’t be on her feet, not at all. In fact, she shouldn’t even be awake. Not after meeting face-to-face with death. But she’s up and she’s gearing up, every bit the hero that saved her people that she is and every bit the hero the Queen of the Apocalypse never was. And never will be.

Without thinking, he stops running. Stops rushing. He taps her shoulder - the familiarity of an acquaintance, a companion. Because for all that she is his closest friend, they have known each other too long to not be friends by now.

“ _I’ll never be your friend.”_

He internally laughs at that little statement he made.

“Should you really be up?” he asks, trying to keep his tone light but his voice tense and worried despite his best efforts. He sees her eyes- they were rigid. Determined.

And tired.

The piercing gaze she kept stayed, but anyone can tell that she was having a hard time maintaining that.

“I’m not going to lie around while my people fight for their lives if I can be up and do the same,” she replies, she sees his too. And knows something was off.

“It must be killing you to be just here and not on the battlefield,” he says without thinking. He can afford to be this open right now, he thinks. The feeling in his gut hasn’t disappeared and this could be the last conversation he ever has with her if it is right.

If this is the last they ever talk, he wanted it to be as friends and equals. Not as heroes wanting to save their land. He secretly hoped it could be much more.

Miya must see something in his face, in his body language, to understand that this conversation is important to him, because she lets go of the sternness of the Moonlight Archer, Leader of the Moon Elves fade from her face and gives him a small, reassuring smile.

“Absolutely,” she says. “But I guess I have to set a good example for my people as their leader. I never wanted to lead, but I suppose it is the only thing to be done. I know my limits,” there is a flash of worry and fear in her eyes as she speaks. He observes another, a blink of relief, one that isn’t the least bit fake but is dimmed by the surroundings. “I know my limits in these matters, unlike some people.”

“I’m perfectly good at judging my limits,” he retorts, feeling himself relax slightly too. As much as one can in a situation like this. “it’s everyone else that’s bad at that.”

“You once faced a pack of class-A demons with a broken leg.”

He coughs. “That was only once.” he declares, “you do it once and you’ll never live it down.”

There is a slight shake to her shoulders. He sees a quirk to her lips and thought it might be laughter. Then it fades and the situation crashes back down on them, her face turning solemn.

“Be careful out there, please.” she says. The last word is empathized ever so slightly.

“I will,” he promises. She nods stiffly and turns to leave.

It’s something spontaneous, a whim he should be able to control with all his years of experience, but he doesn’t manage it. Before she leaves, he blurts “Miya!” and reaches out to grab her arm. She stops and looks over her shoulder, her eyes questioning.

He swallows, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. The feeling in his gut is swirling like a maelstrom and he just knows what the next word out of his mouth has to be.

“Goodbye.” he said.

His voice was earnest, his eyes staring right into hers. He has to say it to someone, and she pulled him back from the darkness when no one and nothing else could. It’s right, he thinks, that she is the one he says this to.

He lets go of her arm, steps back, and then turns on his heel and runs to protect his home and the people who lived in it. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t see the realization dawning on her face, the brief look of grief and regret. The steely determination was much harder than it was before.

He kept his eyes forward, ready for the battle ahead. If this is going to be his last, he wants to see every detail of what is ahead.

And not dwell on what is behind.


	4. within null and void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> four, zilong: a kingdom has fallen. a body falls into the abyss. purposes renewed. the dragon is reborn.

He stood at the edge at what seemed to be nothing, fingers tugging at the lower lid of his left eye, slightly purple from lack of sleep. Swallowing hard he stared at the trail of blood that trickled down from his right arm, red droplets falling into an abyss of oblivion. He was in the middle of a plane of nothingness- where nothing existed. Nothing faded. Uneasiness rested deep in the warrior’s gut, even if he knew exactly why this was happening. No sickness, no disease, no curse was the cause.

Zilong, Son of the Dragon, was dead.

His other hand braced against metallic armor, the other drifted down to a bare chest littered with scars and cuts, where the most prominent feature was a spear through his heart.

Fingers brushed through rough- rusted actually- metal. Slowly, he took out the bladed stick. He felt no pain, but he knew how it felt. What was left now was a hole- a gaping hole with nothing in between.

A hole where his soul, his heart, and quite a bit of flesh for that matter- used to be, until that man aimed for it and just… shot it out. Killing him on the spot. It was pleasant, he whispered internally.

He remembered how the king looked when it happened. He’s sorry.

Calloused fingers linger over the scar tissue surrounding the wound; he hears the crackling sounds of broken ribs and felt what remained of his sternum. The man attempted to ignore the fact that he could see his bones were slowly turning dark, like the world itself; blindsided by power.

Spear of Quiescence? Was that the name?

He could say that now, couldn’t he? He was dead, just like the many beings that had fallen before the man’s piercing spears. He was… dead tired actually.

His master would have thought that his pun was clever, he thought as he laughed at his own internal monologue.

If he’s still alive, that is.

“It’s time.”

Ah. There was that voice. Never fading- always at the back of his mind, it held the voice of hope and relief. It wasn’t imagined, no- it was a voice that guided him the entire time. The dragon watched him. It was like the angel on one’s shoulder; he then wondered where the devil could be.

Oh wait, he died. Right. He blames the nonexistent devil- jokingly.

His death wasn’t a general concept like an earthly death the humans have known. He was a semi-potent being- coiled in the ley lines between humanity and godhood. His only purpose was to aid the rise of kingdoms.

Or has that really been the cause? The purpose he was created for?

He remembers the times he woke up from nightmares. He’s dreamed the many times he died. How he died and where he died- being reborn again and again. It never was a pleasant experience. There was too many nights where he would wake up in a cold sweat, mind teeming with the leftovers of his dark dreams of blades through flesh, blood, war and the screams of the kings and their companions as they were cut down like livestock.

He saw his spear floating. In the middle of nothing- suddenly feeling wary, he reached out for the handle and took it with hesitant eyes. He saw a light. It was coming. He knew.

And suddenly- the void exploded around him. Light rained, he can feel mana circling around his body. His wounds healed. Scars were reversed. The hole was gone. He was good as new.

For a moment, he closed his eyes. Seconds after he opened- he was in the middle of nowhere. Again- A new journey, a new kingdom to aid. He sighed wistfully.

Under his breath, he whispered,

“Heroes never fade.”


	5. seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> five, karina/gusion: what is thought to be one was never actually one. the time to part is at hand.

One time they were merely strangers.

“ _What brings you to the temple of light, night elf?”_

One time they were acquaintances.

“ _Killing for the better was only my intent. I harbor no ill-will.”_

One time they were friends.

“ _It appears I’ve lost. I accept defeat. You win, shadow.”_

One time they were close to the edge.

“ _I actually don’t feel all that different.”_

One time, she changed.

Here and now, everything went crashing down. Words were null. Covenants were void. Promises were broken. Rivalries intensified.

“Run.”

He knew that voice all too well.

It was pretty much the same he heard months ago, he thought- a bit different, perhaps, and much more harsh- but it is still the same. The same voice of the young woman he met in the ruins of what seemed to be an altar of mana, in her hands were the brilliant glow of cyan, emitted by two sharp blades.

But this was not that woman who he lost to in a duel yet helped him back up, not the woman he met who only showed such sheer promise in magic, but in life. She felt different. And unlike how they met- her blades were pointed towards him with genuine killing intent.

She’d changed- and Gusion was not sure if she was still the Karina he knew any longer, judging by the fact that the edge of her one blade was pointed at his chest, his heart- which shouldn’t be.

"Karina?”

The Holy Blade’s voice is uncharacteristically soft as he inches towards the other figure, she prepares- her blades dancing at the tips of her purple leather gloves.

“Karina-” Her words while stiff, passively contained force and fury, teeth grating, “-is long gone.”

She suddenly launches towards him with deadly speed. Gusion nimbly sashays aside as he felt a slight pain on his cheek. He swears he feels a small gush of blood, but he doesn’t care.

Déjà vu.

“You need-” She spins and he barely evades her glowing edges, this time forcing Gusion to cast a weak defensive ward he reluctantly learned as he roots himself to one spot, “-to leave!”

The Shadow Blade sighed wistfully. It felt off; the wrong sort of sigh with the same voice who used to belong to one so kind, so firm and most of all guided by justice, and the man swallows hard.

He slowly begins to inch his way backwards, his shield suddenly vanishing into thin air as his attention changes course to escaping. Because whatever has happened, the woman he knew as Karina is gone and in her stead is dangerous, dangerous magic and skill in the hands of one not herself at all. Another burst of speed, she runs towards him. He’s not ready and his magic doesn’t react fast enough but his body does. He throws his arms in front of his face- prepared for the pain.

But he doesn’t feel anything and only sees her body looming over him. He sees pocketed lips, brows furrowed- and... tears?

“Please.” She mouths, her voice undecipherable. “I don’t want this.”

He attempts to grab her hand- but she denies the gesture and gawks at him solemnly.

“Leave.”

He knew something else was at work. But his body and instincts thought otherwise as he got up and ran- fast and he doesn’t look behind. He almost, almost hesitates. He refuses.

And the image in his mind’s eye is a confident and docile night elf, before the one now is back and the woman is gone. Everything right is wrong once again.

Words are null. Covenants are void. Promises are broken. Rivalries intensified.

Seconds are wasted.

 


	6. an ounce of control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> six, nana: one girl hopes that the forest she called home would know true peace once more.

The sun's rays stretched over the horizon- but it could not pierce through dark leaves- a certain forest which canopy had enshrouded itself, light merely landing on a small parched and dry piece of land under an open space. No branches were in the way- and it had allowed for the light to come through. The dew ladened leaves shimmered in the morning rays and far down below, the forest was beginning to stir. A small bird that casually flew from branch to branch sounded loudly- its cries were directed towards a small pink-haired creature. And it had awoken.

“Shut up, you stupid bird!” A voice yelled from the foliage, breaking the peaceful silence of the morning. The pink-haired creature- a tiny girl in fact- hurled what seemed to be a boomerang towards the bird- narrowly missing as it scrambled away in fear.

  
It appeared that the girl was obviously upset- as she sat upright on a small hammock made out of leaves and whatever the forest had left to offer.

  
She hopped out of her makeshift lavatory and took the boomerang she hurled events prior- the object peacefully lying over darkened soil. The ground was slightly darker than what is usually seen- traces of what seemed to be pink particles floating over some parts. The land was enshrouded with this- the vegetation it covered lifeless and the flowers never bloomed.

Everything was dead- the forest was dead. And it was her fault, she says.

  
“What should I do? Mr. Cat...” said the girl frustratingly, not looking up from the dark soil. “This was my fault… my magic...”

No reply was heard. It was to be expected- she didn’t even know whom she was praying to. Her old friends- animals of the forest used to tell her about him. But to her chagrin, had never heard the response of this so-called ‘Mr. Cat’ ever.

  
The elf turned her gaze upwards, and her cat ears turned downwards in distaste. “Everyone hates me. The forest… it’s destroyed.”

“It’s all my fault.” She says. As she had for the last few days.

She feels a twitch- a need. Again, she thinks. The magic- her magic, to be corrected, it was pleading to be discharged. She attempts to hold it in- attempts, she laughs at the word. One day she had been granted mana, a power she believed given by this ‘Mr. Cat’.  
  
But she had no control, and the result was this wasteland of a forest.

The forest that was once lively, filled with thriving life and her friends- the animals, and the forces of nature that lived in harmony. It’s wrong, she said. That such power that wiped all of those out, was given to her.

She cries. As she had for the last few days.

And then, she hears a sound.

And it was heard well- a movement in the leaves, branches were stepped over, footsteps. Quick and light footsteps. Someone was nearby, and it probably saw her. She hears another- this time louder. She prepared herself- finally thinking that her magic would come in handy. Though she was reluctant- she hated using it.

The last sound, the last of this person’s footsteps was heard. Afterwards was a heavy silence, the only noise being the leaves shaken by cold air and the sounds of her own breaths. She sees a figure, taller than her, it carried something- suddenly appearing out of thin air-

A woman?

Out of reflex, the little girl had turned this person into a cat. It dove in a state of panic- but it appeared not to harm her at all. It appeared to be trying to communicate with her- and she sees a bow. Somewhat mystical- she feels. And she feels weirdly inspired around it. She can feel her magic tingling.

No ill will- her instincts whisper. And she turns the woman back to her true form.

As expected, the human- wait, an elf- seemed to be panicky upon returning back to normal. The elf sat silly on the ground. She was pretty- the little girl reckoned- her most prominent feature being her voluminous hair, covering half the elven woman’s face, tied by a ponytail which adorned three feathers- she seemed friendly. The cat elf thinks.

The woman smiled- she wasn’t hostile. Welcoming, actually.

She feels a tic. A pleasant one, for once. She knows, they could get along. She gradually smiles at that. The woman apologizes, knowing her actions startled the little girl. The woman sees her tears, and asks politely. She answers, gently and haphazardly, she’d wanted to tell someone- anyone about her little dilemma for a long time.

Her magic. It was uncontrollable.

The woman smiled, again. She spoke knowingly, it seemed she knew a lot about her magic. Nana felt grateful for that. “How about I help you with that?”

And at that moment, she knew that finally-

she has control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see. i have made little modifications to chapters three, four and five. three- had the most change. it didn't flow quite nicely- and some parts made no sense. four- just a few error fixes. and for five, nothing in particular. just changed gossen to gusion.


End file.
